


Stranger Things 4

by strangerthings011



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24803707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangerthings011/pseuds/strangerthings011
Summary: This is a genre-diverse Stranger Things fanfic leading on from the Season 4 trailers we've had so far. Each chapter is around 1000-2000 words long and there are 13 chapters so far. In each chapter, I write about two situations, including Nancy's house, Joyce's new house, the Russian camp where Hopper is, and more as you progress with the story.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Jonathan Byers & Will Byers, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Mike Wheeler & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Kudos: 9





	1. Introduction

Breathe.

Sunflower.

Rainbow.

Three to the right.

Four to the left.

Hopper had always wondered, at least when he took care of her, if Eleven missed her sick mother, Terry Ives. He had to admit he wasn't a very amazing parenting figure, and Terry could have been a perfect mother, maybe before. But Eleven had hardly known her biological mom, so the thought passed quickly from his mind. He now wondered if she missed him, or if anyone missed him, especially Joyce. Remembering his last moments with her brought a wincing, sharp pain to his heart. Well, he knew one thing for sure. He missed Joyce.

They had shaved off all his hair and burned his clothes the minute he entered the Russian camp. He was then given rough, leathery garments that smelt like a hundred different people had worn them before. That was probably true though anyway. He was then shown to his new home, politely of course. Living in a filthy, dark, barred cell wasn't all it lived up to be. A small, thin bed was attached to the wall with a smudged pillow that wasn't exactly made from down feathers and silk. A toilet and sink were located in the corner and Hopper guessed he wouldn't be showering anytime soon.

Each prisoner was given a measly breakfast of stale bread, water and dry cheese. Then they laboured all day hammering down nails on the railway track in the bitter cold of the Siberian tundra. Oh that cold, it bit at your flesh and froze your muscles and even when you were in your bed you could still feel it in your bones, your teeth chattering, the hairs on your arms standing erect. After a day full of fruitless exhaustion, you recieved a cold stew that no one really knew the ingredients of. It tasted vile though, and Hopper had to fight the urge to retch into his bowl. Despite this, he swallowed it quickly and without complain. The stew was the only proper meal the inhabitants of the camp recieved, and many died of either starvation (if they couldn't handle the stew) or pneumonia (for obvious reasons).

But however horrible the breakfast was, or the endless toil in the freezing cold, or the disgusting dinner that could hardly be called edible, Hopper dreaded the end of the day most.

That was when they picked the prisoner to fight with the Demogorgon.

New captives were brought to the camp everyday, mostly from Russia but from all over the world as well. They only had accomodation for so many prisoners. So the Russians chose the most obvious, cruel way to keep population numbers down.

To kill them.

It was barbaric and inhuman what those people did, Hopper thought every night. It wasn't even a quick shot to the head, even though that couldn't be excused, it was a fight to the death with a merciless creature that could rip your body to shreds in under 30 seconds. You were locked in a wide cell with no walls, just bars all the way around and you waited in tense fear, cold sweat dripping from your temple, your hair turning white for the monster to appear maliciously from behind a dirty flap. And the whole time, Russian soldiers were watching you from between the bars, sometimes laughing, sometimes chanting Fight! Fight! like unruly, spiteful children watching a wrestling match on the televison.

Different people reacted to this message of death. Some were happy to go along, their life was so miserable anyway. Some young men thought they could fight the creature alone; they were determined, brave and stupid. And the majority of prisoners in that miserable camp took so long to realise their wretched fate they didn't even put up a fight with the Demogorgon.

If you had been picked, you were lucky if you died. The rare humans that had fought against this monstrous creature and won were scarred for life, both physically and mentally. They normally came out of that cell with one leg missing, or no eyes, or both. And when you came out, if you had miraculously survived for ten whole minutes in the cage, the soldiers and guards had no admiration or even respect for you. Instead, they ridiculed and mocked, destroying the last bit of self-esteem you had left in your soul. Many of Hopper's, um, colleagues who had come out of that cell alive were not the same again. They didn't speak and if they did, they did so in garbled, short, distressing sounds.

It was a painful and agonizing way to leave this world, there was no debate about it.

So how do you think Hopper felt when he was told to go down to the cell at 22:19, the 6th of May?

Eleven was unpacking slowly with Will, while Joyce unloaded furniture from the van. They spoke no words: their silence was loud enough. The road trip had been a dull and monotonous one, with the occasional crackle of the radio or spill of coffee to break the quiet. Eleven had fallen asleep somewhere in that dry journey; she could not remember when and for how long. She had been rereading the letter Hopper had sent her the rest of the drive and she almost remembered it off by heart now.

There's something I've been wanting to talk to you both about - and I know this is a difficult conversation...

I've been stuck in one place - in a cave, you might say...

But I know you're getting older, growing, changing...

To turn back the clock. To make things go back to how they were...

But please, if you don't mind, for the sake of your poor old dad, keep the door open three inches.

The door.

Ha.

Deep inside, she knew Hopper wasn't a very good parent. But he loved her, he had loved her, and she still loved him, dead or not. And I guess, Eleven thought, that's really all that matters.

Right?

No, Jane Hopper, it's not. He's dead and it's all your fault. Where were you when your own loving father exploded in a Russian laboratory?

Saving all of Hawkins, Indiana from the Mind Flayer!

Eleven silently groaned. Whatever was going on in her head needed to stop.

She unpacked more and more clothes until her arms ached. Will carried on with her as well until everything was in neat piles in drawers or hung gayly in wardrobes. Will had set out some of the old toys that he hadn't given to Erica on his bedside table, for remembrance. Eleven visioned Will and Dustin and Lucas playing D&D together. And of course, Michael Wheeler.

Oh, Mike.

She pushed the feeling deep down and began to make her bed quietly. This new house in Maine was quite a bit smaller than Will's old house or Mike's house.

There's that feeling again.

And she would have to sleep in the same room as Will. In separate beds of course. Eleven shook her head at the thought, chuckling to herself.

"What's so funny?" Eleven was startled by the sound of a human.

"Oh, um, nothing," Well, what was she supposed to say? "So...do you like the house?"

"It's nice," Will looked around disapprovingly. "Quite small, though. I mean, I'd like my own bedroo-"

"Will?"

"Yes?"

"Do you miss Mike?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Why?" He questioned.

"I don't know, it's just, um, I miss him too." And then she was sobbing into her hands and the feeling she had been pushing down for so long poured out and it was everywhere, seeping from her eyes and her mouth and pulsating through her body.

Eleven had reached a stage of grief.

Her body shook as she cried and Will, kind, kind Will let her rest on his shoulder until the sobbing was reduced to short, hiccuping gasps.

She missed Max, her ginger best friend who had taught her the ways of boys and teenage life.

She missed Hopper, a man who had fathered her like one of his own.

And most of all, she missed Mike, Mike who she had confided her deepest secrets, Mike who she had kissed in Hopper's cabin, Mike who had saved her life that day by finding her in the woods.

"Will?" Eleven breathed heavily between gasps. "Do you think Mike misses me?"

"Well, of course! You're his girlfriend! And we'll meet him at Christmas and you can call him over the phone and use the walkie-talkies. You see, Eleven, me and Mike always stay in touch, no matter what."

He grinned stupidly, like a child on Christmas morning who'd recieved the very exact train set he'd begged his parents to get. Sometimes Eleven believed that there was still some immatureness, some child-like features left in Will, and she couldn't seem to figure out why.

Of course, there was always the fact that Will had lived in the Upside Down for almost two years; he hadn't recieved the oppurtunity to reach adolescense in a normal environment. He had been almost dead when they found him in that horrid place. But Will had helped her, and she had helped him, and that made them friends.


	2. The Cell

Today's the day, Hopper thought. Today's the day you're gonna die.

When Hopper thought of his death, obviously before all this happened, he imagined himself on a wheeled hospital bed, with softly beeping machines either side. Or maybe he would just die peacefully, of natural causes. Either way, he hadn't expected to be devoured by a Demogorgon.

He had received the distressing news late at night, tossing and turning on the uncomfortable bed. As his eyes were about to close for the rest of the night he heard a dreadful sound: a key turning in the lock of his cell. He immediately sat up in his bed and one of the Russian uniformed soldiers spoke, small and steely.

"You are to go to monster cell tonight, American." He spoke with a heavy

Russian accent and when he said 'American' he sounded utterly disgusted.

Huh. They're racist too.

"Come or we will kill you now."

A gun glimmered maliciously in the soldier's holster.

Hopper obediently stood up, dazed and only slightly anxious. He had always thought, miraculously, that he could escape the wretched prison and maybe get back to the people he loved, all the way in Indiana. He had played this impossible scene many times in his head.

He would ruffle Eleven's short hair.

He would kiss Joyce (if she let him).

He would shake hands with Will.

And so on.

If he died now, who would take care of Eleven? And what would happen to Joyce?

For goodness sake, Jim, they already think you're dead! Now get it together and try to get out of here!

Right…get out of here.

"COME NOW!" another soldier bellowed.

"Yes…yes I'm coming." Hopper rubbed the sleep from his eyes and dutifully let the soldiers place a firm grip on his shoulders and walk him to that haunted cell. A young guard poked a wooden stick in his back every time he slouched, even just for a second.

When they finally reached the cell, Hopper was not shoved mercilessly inside. Instead he was placed outside the bars, where the soldiers normally watched the fights.

"Wait here," The soldier said in a threatening voice. "If you leave, terrible consequences," A tall, dirty man appeared from the dark behind Hopper. "Just for safety measures."

Hopper was left next to the dreadful cage, with the man grunting behind him. The man pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it, and began to smoke. The smoke was thick and heavy and made his head swim. The man passed Hopper a lit cigarette, and they both smoked together silently.

After about twenty-three minutes, Hopper stubbed his cigarette out on the bars of the cage, hearing loud footsteps thudding on the metal floors. Smoking was prohibited for prisoners and captives. As was drinking.

"This is General Turgenev. He is in charge of all you dirty prisoners," The soldier spat on the floor. "He will be asking you the questions, American. And you must answer truthfully. Do you understand?"

"Ok."

The general spoke to the other men, who looked meek in comparison. He was short, had long black boots and a riding crop. He wore a different uniform to the other soldiers, red and black instead of green and yellow.

He led Hopper to a large, empty room, and Hopper felt the feeling of relief flood his body. He wasn't going to die. At least not today.

He was then told to sit in a wooden chair, and several young soldiers tied rough ropes around his hands and body. He struggled, but eventually he had to give up.

"I heard that you are in possession of a particularly unnatural girl."

Hopper thought of Eleven, and his heart sank. "She's not a thing! She's my daughter and you'll never get her!" He struggled again in the chair, with no results.

"Whatever. Would you like to tell us where she is?"

"NO! If you're going to try to use her for some weird experiment or something, you can't! She's already been through so much, you dirty bastards, I would NEVER let her go through that again!" He spat at the ground and the guard chuckled.

"Are you sure about that?" the general drawled maliciously. And as he spoke, the same man who had given him the cigarette plunged a syringe with green fluid into Hopper's arm.

Eleven had a restless night on her first day of living in Maine. It was 10:12 PM and Will was in Jonathan's room, listening to the seemingly magical radio with him, muffled, pulsating sounds coming through the walls. She tucked herself in but then realized she needed a glass of water so she went back to the kitchen. All the utensils and kitchen equipment was set out neatly. Joyce's work, probably, Eleven thought. She filled a mug with chickens on it up and sipped it in her room.

For the first time in a long time, Eleven felt relieved.

She was living with a lovely woman in a beautiful house with one of her friends. And she would meet her boyfriend and best friend at Christmas, which was only a few months away.

The night was very different though.

Will had come in at about 10:54 and fell asleep at 11:07. Eleven, however, was awake well past midnight and when she did fall asleep, sometime about 2 in the morning, nightmares haunted her. She had so many that night she couldn't even remember them all. Some were about the day they defeated the Mind Flayer, and some were about Papa, but there was one that she could remember as clear as day.

She was next to Hopper as Joyce was about to close the Gate (and kill him). Joyce was in the control box and she was crying. Hopper smiled at Joyce, blood dripping from his mouth, but he didn't seem to notice Eleven. It was like she had traveled back in time. Then, as the Key closed the Gate, Hopper fell through the floor. Eleven was alarmed, when she realized there was a trapdoor. She followed after him and found herself in a long, low network of tunnels. Hopper started crawling through them and after what felt like two hours, they reached daylight. The tunnels had been filthy, cramped and claustrophobic, and Eleven was glad to leave them. She tried to hug Hopper, but her arms fell right through his waist. She screamed but he didn't even hear. The two had appeared outside the Russian factory, and just as Hopper was about to escape the place, two Russian soldiers found him and one punched him in the face, rendering him unconscious. Eleven cried out and tried to kick the soldiers. But it was no use. Her legs went right through them. Then they carried Hopper away and Eleven sank down into the floor, sobbing heavily.

She recounted this story to Joyce the next morning.

Joyce, who was in the kitchen sipping a mug of black coffee, cried a little herself and they both hugged each other tightly. She wiped her eyes and gave a hopeful smile.

"So..was this a vision or just a bad dream?"

"What's a vision?"

"Well, a vision is when someone has sort of a, a moment, yeah, when they see something happen. It could be something that will happen in the future, or something that already has happened. And normally, a vision feels much more real than a dream, and you remember it distinctly. Like, like when you put a blindfold on your eyes and you go into the Upside Down. Yeah, that's right." Joyce spoke carefully and squeezed Eleven's shoulders tightly.

"I-I don't know, I do remember it clearly but how would I know where Hopper is or if he's dead or not?" Saying the words out loud made it all the more real and she shuddered slightly.

"Hmmm. Maybe you're telepathic as well as telekinetic," She chuckled and downed the rest of her coffee. "Wait. Maybe you are telepathic. Maybe, maybe the soldiers sent Hopper back home and he ummm...just hasn't been able to ring us yet!" She grabbed the telephone off its holder and dialed Jim Hopper's number. She waited anxiously, her fingers fidgeting with the house keys, her eyes worried.

The call was sent to voicemail.

Joyce slammed the phone back down. "Son of a-"

"Language, Mom! Why are you so angry anyway? Who was on the phone?" Standing in the doorway was Will, still in his pajamas, hair sticking up.

"You're right, sweetie, She slumped miserably into a chair, then pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "I'm going out for a w-walk. Make yourself some waffles, or cereal or something, I-I dunno." She sauntered out of the front door, casual and calm. Will glimpsed her watering eyes though.

"Wait, Mom! Come back! What-what's wrong? Mom!" he yelled. He ran after her but Joyce had locked the door from the outside and Will didn't have a key.

"What happened to her?"

"I had a dream about Hopper and she thought it was a vision…but I guess it wasn't."

Will put an arm around Eleven. "Hopper saved my life and sometimes...sometimes I wish I could have paid him back." He sniffed gently and reached for the cereal.

Eleven liked having Will's arm around her shoulders. It was soft and comforting.

Too comforting.


	3. Settling In

"Ok, ok I'm coming!" Nancy Wheeler replied to the rapid knocks on her front door. It was almost 11 o' clock and she wondered who would be there at this hour. She put a decent sweater on top of her nightclothes and opened the door sleepily.

"Mr and Mrs Holland! Uh, would you like to come inside?" There seemed to be a third person with them, but she couldn't make him or her out in the darkness.

"Oh, thank you darling, the rain really is torrential. I promise we'll only stay for a bit." Mrs Holland shook the raindrops off her transparent umbrella on the doorstep.

"Um, sorry to ask you but is there someone with you? I'm really sorry, it's just I can't see in…"

Her voice faltered as the person stepped forward.

It was Barb.

"Oh, Nancy, I missed you soooo much!" Barb said as she wrapped Nancy in a suffocating hug.

Nancy pushed her away, astonished. Could her friend really be back from the dead? "Barb?" she whispered incredulously. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, Nancy. It is me. And I know you had a funeral for me, but I am me, Nancy." She squeezed Nancy's hands reassuringly. They were covered with raindrops and unsurprisingly cold.

"But- but..how? When? No, no that, that can't be Barb. She died in the Upside...I mean from the factory chemical leak. And I am very sorry but this...this must be an impostor."

Mr. Holland stepped in. "Nancy, I know this is hard to believe but this really is Barbara. She knows everything about us, about you, about school-"

"Really?" Nancy interrupted. "When's my birthday?"

"February 21st, 1967," Barb replied almost monotonously.

"Ok...what's my little brother's name?"

"Mike Wheeler,"

"Who did I date before you, um…" She looked down, fidgeting with her hands. "Before you left us?"

"Steve Harrington,"

"Ok, well I guess it really is Barb then," Nancy smiled uncertainly. "But how did you come back? And who was in the coffin at your funeral?"

Mrs Holland spoke: "Nancy, Nancy, don't ask her that," She whispered now: "Well, Barbara hasn't really been answering those questions to us either. She just won't tell us. No matter what we do, she'll talk about everything else apart where she came from."

Nancy nodded.

Just at that moment, Nancy's mother came downstairs, her hair in curlers, dressed in a velvet short nightgown. "Nancy! I've been waiting for-" She stopped abruptly as she saw the open door. "Sweetie, do we have visitors?"

"It's Barb's parents, Mom!"

"Barb's parents? Well, I better go change then," She was about to hurry back upstairs when Nancy grabbed her arm.

"No, Mom," Tears flooded her eyes. "Barb's back,"

"What do you mean?" She murmured softly. "Didn't Barbara die from a chemical leak?"

"Yes, that's what I thought, but look, she's here now!"

Barb shook hands with Mrs Wheeler. "Barbara Holland."

"How? Wait - this is like when Micheal's friend came back in 1983. What was his name? It was Will, wasn't it? You're, you're just like him!"

Nancy corrected her, sighing. "Mom, the funeral for Will was fake, remember? The body was just a dummy. No, no something else has happened to Barb," They were all awkwardly quiet for a few minutes until Nancy broke the silence.

"Barb? How would you like to stay the night? You know, for old times' sake?" She smiled sweetly.

"Well, um, Nancy, I'm sure Barbara would-"

"We're not busy, so...would you?"

"Of course I would, Nance! As long as it's fine with your mom." Barb looked up at Mrs Wheeler hopefully.

Nancy's mother sighed. "Yes, Barbara, even though I was gonna have a spa…" Her voice trailed off.

"Thank you so much! Mom, is that okay?"

"Yes sweetie, it's only fair you get to see your friend after so long. When will you come home? Or shall we pick you up?"

Mrs Holland worried.

"Mom, don't embarrass me! I'll come home by myself. I'm 17, for goodness sake!" Barb kissed her mom and dad on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow. Now go, before the rain gets worse again!" She pushed them gently.

"Ok, just remember to use your inhaler. And, and come back before 12!"

Nancy closed the door and took a deep breath. "Let's go upstairs, then,"

Eleven opened her eyes wearily. Only a week had passed since they had moved, yet it felt like months. And today was the worst day of all: her first day of school.

Being kept in Hawkins Lab for almost all her life, Eleven had never been to a proper school before. Therefore, she could hardly speak after leaving the lab, and had to learn most of her vocabulary from her friends. Despite this, Eleven still couldn't speak as fluently as other children, she had had very different experiences to them, and she had no friends at her new school apart from Will.

School was one of the few things that couldn't be fought with superpowers.

That reminded her.

She had no superpowers.

They had disappeared mysteriously the day they had closed the Gate in Hawkins, and not come back ever since. She sat up and tried now to lift her grey backpack off the floor, yet it hardly hovered a few millimetres off the ground. She kept on struggling, forcing tears into her determined eyes, until Will put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her arm relaxed immediately. "Hey," He smiled. "They'll come back eventually. But don't try to force them. I think that will just make them worse."

Eleven wasn't convinced. "I've never, ever lost my powers before. I've had them my whole life. They, they were a part of me," She looked down at her hand miserably. "It's like a part of me is...gone. What if they don't come back? What if I'm just powerless forever?"

Will stayed quiet. He didn't know what he was supposed to say anyway. Eleven rubbed her watering eyes and stood up, undefeated. "I'll help Joyce make breakfast." She left the room.

Will closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Even though he had been to a school before, unlike Eleven, this school was still new to him. He just hoped for dear life that there were no bullies, and that if they were, they didn't notice him. He remembered the names he had been called back at Hawkins Middle: Queer, Weirdo, Zombie Boy… No. He was going to start a life anew. Opening his eyes now, he went over to his bed and pulled the school brochure from his drawers. Wells High School, it read, in a loud, cheery font. There were fuzzy pictures of school trophies, exam halls with celebrating students in them, and so on. The school motto was: "Striving For Excellence". It seemed like an overall good school, yet you could never be too sure.

He went to join El in making breakfast, when he saw the two of them crying.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? Mom? Mom! What's happened?" He panicked.

Joyce sniffed loudly and smiled. "Honey, look," And in her thin, red hands, was a creased letter. Signed with the name: Jim Hopper.

Will's face lit up instantly. "Is that- is that really from him?"

"We don't know," Eleven said. "It might be a fake or from someone else, but look at the writing. It sounds just like him!"

The letter read:

Dear Joyce,

I hope I sent this to the right address. I remember you telling me where you were going to move to after the summer, even though I wish you could've stayed in Hawkins. I just wanted to let you know that I'm alive, and I really really miss you and El. Is she okay? Whoever she's with, make sure that she has a diet of more than just Eggos. I'm not home though, and I'm not safe, and I really wish I could tell you where I am but I can't. Please don't worry about me though, I will get out of here, and I will come to see you guys. And then maybe, we could have that date?

Love,

Jim Hopper

Joyce laughed quietly as she read the last sentence, but her heart beat faster as she saw the most important words. "I'm not home though, and I'm not safe, and I really wish I could tell you where I am but I can't!" She read the letter aloud. "W-where could he be? And why's he not safe? Oh, Will, you don't think the Russians found him, do you?"

"I don't know! I don't even know how he could have survived when we closed the gate." His voice faltered.

"Well, it's definitely him. No one could know such personal information about us apart from him." She squeezed Eleven tightly, then wiped her eyes. "I guess it's time for you guys to get to school now. Shall I drive you or…."

"Umm, we'll walk."

It was a crisp autumn morning, and dry leaves crunched under their feet. The school was only a twenty minute walk away yet they hurried, the cold getting underneath their clothes. Small children passed them by on bicycles and scooters. From far away, they looked like two friends walking together. Or maybe even siblings. But their connection was so much more than that.

They could see the school now: it was a long, rectangular, brick building surrounded with mowed grass. An American flag hung down from a sign that read Wells High School. They were about to enter when Will stopped.

"Maybe," He breathed. "Maybe, we should skip school today."

"Skip?"

"You know, not go? We could just wander around Maine, see what there is to see?"

"Why?"

"Do you really wanna go here? A place where we know no one? Where people will make fun of us?"

"Yes, but-"

"It's fine! The school won't realize anyway! By the looks of it, they don't even care about academic progress anyway, just stupid sports and shit,"

"What about Joyce? Won't she find out?"

"No, she won't," he reassured her. "Now, let's go!"


	4. The Truth

"Barbara, sweetie, would you like anything to drink? Or eat?" Nancy's mom asked politely.

"No, we're fine, thanks," Nancy replied hastily for her. They hurried upstairs, Barb's coat dripping. behind her.

Barb stopped. "I just realized...I don't have any pajamas."

"It's fine, you can borrow mine." Nancy muttered.

"But they won't fit-"

"Ok, you can use my mom's then!" She interrupted. "Come on!"

"Ok, ok...jeez." A long silence followed. Nancy walked into her bedroom. She shut the door behind her. "Wait." She said sternly.

A while later, she came out, a discolored photo in her hand. It was of a 15-year-old Barb, dressed in a blue jacket and pink blouse. It was from the day she had supposedly been killed by the Demogorgon, and ironically, she was smiling. Nancy pointed at it, lowering her voice. "Now, this? This was the real Barbara Holland."

"I told you, I-"

"Let me finish. She was sweet and caring, and she had really good advice, but she would never tell her parents what to do like you just did back then, so that's my first reason for why you're not Barb. Secondly, your parents - I mean Barb's parents don't know but Barb was actually cremated since what that monster did to her didn't look like it could've been done by a chemical leak. The body in her funeral was a dummy, so you couldn't have, I dunno, come back from the dead!"

Barb opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but then closed it with a long sigh. Nancy carried on, her eyes watering. "So I don't know who you are, or how you know everything about me, but you're not Barb. You may have convinced my mom, and even Mr and Mrs Holland, but you haven't convinced me!" She stared at Barb now, anger welling up inside her. "Now you're gonna tell me who you are, and I want the truth."

"Is everything okay up there? I heard shouting!" Mrs Wheeler yelled from the living room.

Nancy was about to speak, but Barb cut in. "No, Mrs Wheeler, we're fine!" She yelled back.

Nancy looked at her, astonished. Looking down anxiously, Barb opened her friend's bedroom door. She sighed again. "I'll tell you everything,"

Nancy flopped down onto her bed, her mouth still agape. "Wait," She said. "Is Barb really dead? Or is she alive?" There was a glimmer of hope in her voice. The supposed stranger in her bedroom looked away awkwardly. "Yeah, I think she is gone. I'm sorry about that,"

"It's ok. What was I thinking? She's been cremated, for goodness sake!" Nancy sniffed. "Tell me, then,"

"Well, as you know, I'm not really Barbara. I'm a clone-"

Nancy leant forward, incredulous. "A clone? Are you joking?" She laughed. "No, you're just someone who looks like her."

Not-Barb stayed serious. "No, I am a clone of Barbara. I'm not joking. I've been made by the Authority."

"Who's the Authority?"

"I don't know. I just knew it existed when I was made. It was like...a feeling. A terrible feeling. And, I knew that I had to come to the Hollands' house and say that I was Barbara, when I wasn't. I have all of her personalities and none of my own. And I look exactly like her, but I don't know why,"

"Well you do look exactly like her," Nancy leaned over and fingered a lock of Not-Barb's ginger, curly hair. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I believe you, for some reason. The thing is, though, who would know all of that information about Barb except…" Her voice faltered as realization struck.

(Imagine that here, if this was the actual show Stranger Things, that that creepy music in season 3 would start playing. You know, the one that goes dun dun dun dun really slowly and it means something bad is about to happen. Thank you!)

"This Authority?" She breathed, her voice rising. "Do you have any idea what it looks like?"

"Kinda…"

Nancy rummaged through her drawers and brought out a VHS tape. "This was from when we...never mind, you wouldn't remember anyway," She said as she put the tape in. It was from a security camera in Starcourt Mall. The video was of her, Mike and his friends throwing fireworks at the Mind Flayer to hurt it, just less than a month ago. "Does it look anything like that?" Nancy pointed at the Mind Flayer and shuddered slightly.

"Yes. It looks exactly like that."

(Now imagine the music's getting louder.)

Nancy panicked. She felt her breath escaping her.

Barb laughed. "I'm joking. No, I don't know what it looks like. But, I know it's not something good."

Hopper opened his eyes wearily. Where was he? There was a man in a white coat in front of him holding scissors...or was it three? He didn't feel right. His brain was muddled and confused. A man in uniform came close to him. His eyes were large and his breath stank. He spoke now, "

slowly enunciating his words. "Where is she?"

"Who's she?" Hopper slurred. "Joyce? Yeah, I asked myself that same question at Enzo's!" He laughed. What was so funny? Was he drunk?

"You know who I'm talking about," The general spat. "The girl with the powers!"

"I mean, Joyce does have some powers…..ohh my daughter. Wasshername? Bell? Nell? El? Yeah, it's El. Weird name, El…"

The man in the white coat whispered to the general. He nodded and left the room.

"What are you guys talking about?" Hopper said slowly. "Are you trying to steal El? She already has a boyfriend, that son of a b**** Mike. Do you think she's still spending time with him?"

"What?" General Turgenov said. "Anyway, we have some more medicine for you, and I think you'll like this one.

"Medicine? I'm not sick. No, I think I am sick actually…"

And the next thing he knew was a black powder was being forced down his throat. "Ahhh! Stop!" he shouted. Admitting defeat, he swallowed it. "Uggh. Ugh, that's grim." It was grim, actually. So grim that he threw it up all over his legs and shoes.

Suddenly, his brain was cleared. The nauseated feeling left his body and he breathed in deeply. It was a bad idea though, since the room now smelled of his own stomach fluid. "What-what did you do to me?" he asked. "What did you do to me!"

The general wasn't angered. Instead, he smiled sweetly and cut the binds that were bound tightly around his body. "Come with us, American," he said. Hopper stood up, dumbfounded. Two large soldiers immediately grabbed his arms and pulled him out of the room. "Where are you taking me?" Hopper struggled. He kicked them yet it was no use. They dragged him along a silver corridor without saying a word, then deposited him into a chair in the canteen. A piece of paper, a pen and an envelope were on the table. General Turgenov sat opposite him. "Today we are giving you the opportunity to write a letter to your daughter and loved ones," He announced.

"W-why?" Was this a trap?

"However," The general continued. "You cannot tell them where you are or what is being done to you. The letter has to be less than 150 words. All you have to do is write it and the address on your envelope. Write away."

"Okay…." Hopper said. He stayed quiet and wrote his letter. He realized how much he had to tell them and ask them, yet he only wrote the basic stuff, since he could write just 150 words. They watched him intently, as if the existence of humanity depended on his letter. When he finished, he wrote the address on the envelope and licked it shut. The general immediately snatched it from him and smiled. After inspecting it carefully, he gave it to another soldier who took it away.

"You will send it, won't you? Please?"

"Yes, American," General Turgenov replied with a snarl. "Of course we will,"


	5. Powers

Eleven and Will ran.

They ran and they ran and they ran. They were running from everything: from home, from their family, from their new school...and not just material things; they were running from their miseries and sorrows, everything was pushed away. Nothing mattered anymore.

They stopped after about ten minutes, sitting down from exhaustion and breathing hard. Will looked around. They were in a forest. Orange and yellow leaves were scattered all over the floor and he kicked a pile, watching them flutter down gracefully. Golden sunlight filtered through the tall trees and bushes. A brown squirrel dashed past them, holding a few seeds.

"This is just like Mirkwood in the fall," Will panted.

"Mirkwood?"

"Oh, it was the nickname we had for the forest where Mike found you when I was missing. I've forgotten its actual name, something like Bridgenear…..or Bridgelo-"

"How was it like in the Upside Down?"

"That's a bit random, but okay. Well, I can remember some of it. I know it was terrible, and I hated it. It made you feel like you were at home, but really you were so far away. At some point I fell asleep, and it was all inside me, and, and, I couldn't escape, El, it was so bad." His breathing grew faster as the memories came back.

Eleven grew alarmed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Let's, let's talk about something else."

"No, no it's fine," Will said. "You must know how it's like, anyway, you were there too, right?"

"Well, it wasn't that bad for me actually."

"Why?"

"Because it's part of me, Will. The Upside Down - it is me."

"What?"

"In 1983," She struggled with the numbers, enunciating slowly. "When we made the - I made the Demogorgon go away, I had to stay in there for almost a year. It was bad, though, you're right. I remember finally getting out; I was in the school, and there was a small Gate in the wall. I felt so, so -"

"Relieved?"

"Yeah, I guess. And I saw Mike with Max…" She laughed gently. "I was so jealous of her. She wasn't even doing anything with him, but I still made her fall. That was….stupid of me."

"Mhm." They both stayed silent for a few minutes after that.

"El," Will spoke. "Can you still, you know, see into other people's lives?"

"I don't know. I haven't tried it since we closed the Gate."

"Here, you can use my sweater to tie around your eyes." He untied it from his waist and gave it to her. "I want to see what Mike's doing. Can you do that?"

"But- spy?"

"I think he won't be mad if you do it now."

"I'll try." She tied it around her eyes as he said, tightening it from the back. Will sat next to her, hopeful.

Eleven concentrated. She remembered finding Billy, and finding Mike with Max. She could hear Will breathing beside her. Would she even be able to do this, she wondered. Her mind was clear of distractions now, and she was in the Void, water up to her ankles. Darkness surrounded her; yet she wasn't frightened, she was familiar with it.

"I can still do it." She spoke quietly. Will didn't respond, instead stayed silent.

She thought of Mike: his sweet smile, his curly brown hair, his eyes...her heart ached for him. Would he be thinking of her? Or had he forgotten everything? El felt tears wetten the sweater and pushed those troubling thoughts aside. And then he was there.

He was wearing a blue hoodie, with brown corduroy pants. He sat cross-legged on the floor, and he looked like he was whispering something. As she ran forward, water splashing behind her, other people materialized next to him. "Max?" El wondered out loud. Her friends were there too: Lucas and Dustin sat with them, writing unintelligible scribbles on notepads as they talked. She grew closer and closer to them, and listened in.

"This is stupid!" Max shouted. "You are all stupid! I mean seriously, listen to yourselves: you're telling me we're gonna somehow convince our parents to take us on holiday to freezing cold Russia, somehow stay near where Hopper is, and then somehow not get caught or killed by the Russians?! And even if we do find him, which is very, very unlikely, how would we break him out?" She exhaled then smiled sarcastically. "Any other ideas?"

"Well, I was thinking we could just wait." Dustin suggested.

"What?"

"I mean, they're not gonna kill him anytime soon, are they? He's their number-one source of information. If he's dead, they won't find out where El is, how to open the Gate, etcetera, etcetera."

"Yeah?" Lucas contradicted. "Well, what are they gonna do when they have all their information? They're not just gonna send him home, that would be too dangerous. They are gonna kill him, if we don't save him first."

"Maybe by then we'll actually have a plan then!" Dustin said. They talked on, bringing up new ideas, then finding faults with them repeatedly. MIke eventually zoned out. His friends' voices turned into an endless, dull drone, and he sighed, tired and bored.

But then he felt it. A sort of...disturbance in the air. He could sense something, something full of emotion, something waiting for him. The air tingled, and he put his hand forward to feel. The air was tingly, and he knew there was something different about it. He heard a muffled voice.

"Mike?" It said. He moved backwards instantly, more than slightly afraid. Who was this? And where was it coming from? It spoke again, repeating itself. "Mike? Mike!" Now, this time he recognised it. "El?"

Eleven knelt down to see him. She looked into his brown eyes, and dared herself to touch him. It was a tempting thought, yet she knew what would happen if she did. He looked at her and put his hand forward, stroking her hair. "Mike?" she exclaimed with joy. "Mike? Mike!" She held his hands and squeezed them. He didn't disappear. "You can see me? Oh, Mike, you can really see me!"

"El?"

"Yes it's me, Mike! Just, just hold on, let me tell Will," Yet at that moment, he disintegrated, along with the rest of them, and she was left looking at no one. Tearing off her blindfold, she sank down on the floor, sobbing into her knees. Will held her comfortingly. "What's wrong? Did it work? Did you see him? El? El! I-I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have made you do this, we can go back to school if you want, I know the way." He tried and tried but it was no use. She kept on crying.

After a while, the tears subsided, and Eleven sat up again.

"Tell me now," Will said calmly. "What happened?" El wiped her nose.

"He was there, and he could see me, Will, he could really see me. He looked at me and he touched my hair...and then he was gone, and he wouldn't come back."

"Well, at least it worked! Also, I shouldn't have made you do this-"

"It's okay. I wanted to do it as well." Her hand glimpsed his, and as they touched, a searing pain arose in her right shin, the exact place where the Mind Flayer had ripped open her flesh. She grabbed it, crying out in pain. At the same time, the skin of Will's neck crawled, and he shuddered. It only lasted for a second, ending as soon as it had started.

"Well." Will spoke. "That was strange."

Nancy exhaled. She just - didn't know what to say. So much had happened in the past hour: it overwhelmed her. She had been told that her long dead friend was miraculously alive and well - and then told that that was a lie. She lay on her bed, staring up into the ceiling, while Not-Barb sat awkwardly beside her. Should she trust this red-headed stranger? Could she really be a clone? And if the real Barbara had really been mangled and mutilated to death by the Demogorgon (Nancy shuddered at the thought of it), how would making a clone be possible? As well as that, if this was the Mind Flayer behind this, why was he doing it? Questions crowded her mind. But she knew she couldn't ask them. She didn't even know who the person sitting next to her was. She couldn't tell her mom either. There would be too much explaining and she obviously wouldn't believe her anyway.

"You're not sleeping in my bed." Nancy sat up.

"What?" Not-Barb said, slightly distracted.

"I don't want you sleeping in my bed. You can sleep on the floor if you like. Wait. Do you even sleep? I dunno. Just, sort it out yourself. I'm going to get some tea." She left the room.

"Do you want anything? Tea or water, maybe?" Nancy asked as she opened the door, a small mug in her hand. And there was Not-Barb on the bed, breathing fast and biting her knuckles.

"W-what's wrong?" For some reason, Nancy wanted to comfort the supposed stranger in her bedroom, even though she knew it wasn't her own best friend in there. But they were so similar! And not just in looks, she talked like her, had the same personality...Nancy had to keep on reminding herself that the person she was talking to wasn't Barb. She had proved it herself, anyway. "What's wrong?" Nancy repeated herself. "What's happened?" She sat next to her.

"Where. Is. Eleven?" Not-Barb spoke slowly, a penetrating fear in her brown eyes. "Where. Is. Eleven!"

"El?" Nancy replied, incredulous. "How-how'd you know about El? The real Barb died before she ever got to know about her. If you have all her memories, how would you…" And now leaning back, she punched the stranger in the face. Hard.

She staggered backwards, then slumped over the bed, blood leaking from a cut on her cheek. Nancy stared in horror at what she had done, her hands over her open mouth.

"Nancy!" A muffled call came from downstairs. "Nancy! What was that noise! Nancy! I'm coming upstairs!" Slowly panicking, Nancy ran to lock her door. Her mother rattled it loudly.. "Nancy! Open this door! Has something happened? Tell me, I won't be mad, I promise. Just open the door, Nancy!"

"Uh….I'm changing, Mom! Don't come in!"

"With Barbara in there?!"

"No! I mean, she, uh, she's in the bathroom!"

"Then what was that noise?"

"I, uh , I really don't know, Mom, but we're fine here. Honest."

"Ok…"

Nancy waited for the sound of her mother's footsteps down the stairs to subside, then went to peer at her unsuspecting victim. She was unconscious, all right, her eyes closed. Tears poured from Nancy's eyes, but she wiped them away determinedly. She had punched her because she had finally figured out what was happening, why she had come, what was the point of it all…

Not-Barb was a clone. And she was spying for the Mind Flayer.

That was why she had come over straight to Nancy's house, the Mind Flayer still thought that El was in Hawkins….She marveled ironically at the vile creature's genius. It wanted El and only El, but why? Was it her powers? Probably. But it wasn't just that. She didn't know why, but Nancy knew that Eleven was important.

Her mind reverted back to the knocked-out body lying on her bed. What was she going to do with it? And what if she woke up? There was only one thing she could do.

It was terrible, but she had to do it. Heaving under the weight, Nancy Wheeler threw the unconscious body out of her window.


	6. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not one of my best, especially the Nancy bit, but I hope you guys can bear it. Sorry, I'm not in a creative mood tonight. Also, the chapter is very short, for the same reason.

Nancy looked out of the window in terror. It was late, and she could hardly see anything in the darkness. A few seconds later, she heard a loud crash, as the body fell onto a car. Nancy sank down into her knees and sobbed. Tears flooded down her face. She was a murderer, clone or not. She had killed Bruce Lowe, but he had already been flayed. Not-Barb had been perfectly alive, and who knows: maybe she wasn't a clone from the Mind Flayer, maybe she was just a crazy stranger who Nancy had killed for no reason.

After a while, she got up, grabbed the flashlight on her bedside table, and ran to shine it onto Not-Barb's body.

It wasn't there.

All that was left was a squirming mess of red, fleshy biomass on the crushed top of the car.

The Mind Flayer. So she had been telling the truth. Quietly and almost but not quite calmly, Nancy pulled out her gun and silencer from under her bed, loaded it, and shot the creature at least 5 times. It screeched and tried to move, but eventually it stopped. Her mom still heard it, though, even with the silencer. And her bedroom door was unlocked. She could hear her mother's footsteps thundering up the stairs; there was nothing she could do now. The door was struck open.

"Nancy! What was that noise?! And this time, I know it came…." Her voice faltered. "Where, where is Barbara?" Nancy responded by bursting into tears and flinging her arms around her bewildered mother. "That wasn't her, Mom," she sobbed into her shoulder. "It wasn't her and-and I killed it and it's gone, and I was so stupid for thinking it was her, when it was that f****** monster! I hate it!"

"What? I-I can't understand you Nancy, slow down. What's wrong? And where is Barbara? If she's run away again, her parents are going to blame this on me! Where is she? Tell me!"

Nancy sat down on her bed and explained the whole story to her mom. What had really happened to Barb and Will, who Mike's girlfriend was, and about the Mind Flayer and the Gate. She listened intently, but Nancy could tell her mom thought that she was just spinning stories.

"I promise, I'm not making this up." she protested. Yet her mom chuckled.

"That was very imaginative, sweetie, but tell me what's wrong and where Barbara is. Please!"

"You don't believe me? Here, look outside the window: look at the car." She got up and drew Mrs Wheeler to her window. "That - is part of the Mind Flayer," She sniffed, pointing downwards. "That was Barb's clone, and I...I punched her in the head and threw her out the window. And she melted-" Nancy was cut off because at that moment she received a resounding slap to her face. Nancy widened her eyes in shock, holding her reddened cheek. "Mom?" she whispered in dread.

"What is wrong with you?! What the hell is wrong with you, Nancy Wheeler?! Now, tell me where Barbara is and just shut up for once!" She paused for a moment as Nancy cried quietly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hit you, Nancy, are you okay?" She put her hand on Nancy's face comfortingly.

"It's okay, Mom," Nancy sniffed bitterly. "But, just look:" She shone her flashlight once again down onto the car and Mrs Wheeler shuddered as she saw it.

"What. Is. That?"

"That's Barb's clone, I'm telling you, and she melted into, into that."

"So, so, you're saying all of what you just told me is true? Even that girl, Eleven?"

"YES, Mom, that's what I've been trying to tell you for the past hour!"

"But cloning isn't possible..."

"That's what I thought until now. But the Mind Flayer, it can do anything. What I don't get is how it's still alive…."

"What was that?"

"It was in my shin - where the Mind Flayer hurt me." Eleven looked at her scar closely. It felt foreign and unnatural. "What happened to you, Will?"

"It was in my neck, and it was like when I sensed if it was coming. You know, that tingly feeling." He looked around anxiously. "It's not here now, is it?"

"I don't think so...How did it happen? I didn't hurt myself and the Mind Flayer isn't here…"

"Are you okay? That must have hurt a lot."

"Yes, I'm fine. But how?" She replied.

"Well, it happened when our hands touched, I think."

"Touch my hand again." El said firmly.

"But it'll hurt-"

"I said touch it!"

He finally gave in and brushed his hand against hers. Again, her scar throbbed with pain and the skin of Will's neck crawled. This time, El didn't scream, instead clenching her teeth and closing her eyes.

"So, it happens when I touch your hand...Why?"

"I don't know. It hasn't ever happened before, not until we came here."

"Yeah." They both sat in silence for a while, thinking.

"It never happened when I touched Mike."

"What?"

"It never happened when I touched Mike," she repeated louder than before. "Or anyone else that was involved in it. There's something wrong with you - wrong with both of us."

"Well, the Mind Flayer has gotten to both of us before. You when it hurt your leg, and it's used me as a host as well. Is it still in us now?" He felt his neck, shuddering at the thought.

"But didn't I get all of it out of me? At Starcourt?" Eleven asked.

"I guess not. And since it's in us both, when we touch each other it repels itself, maybe?"

"Repels?"

"It means it forces itself away like it, it hates itself."

El tactfully changed the subject. "Do you wanna go back to school now?"

"No," Will said, checking his wristwatch. " School has already started, we'll get in trouble if we go back now. Let's go home. I promise Mom won't be mad. I'll tell her what happened." They slowly got up and started to head back the way they came from. They stayed away from each other as they walked, almost hostile.


	7. New Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Announcement: there is something wrong with my keyboard, if I type the letter "o", it writes the letters "io", so if you find any typos, please tell me.

Joyce was troubled.

She only slept for a few hours each night, her head filled with "what ifs" and "why nots".Will was going to a new school where he could get bullied again. She had a whole other child to take care of now when two were already enough. The man who had liked her was either dead or in captivity. Why had she not shown up to that stupid date at Enzo's? Soon the money Hopper had given her to use when she moved would run out, and she would have to find a job. She slumped over the dinner table as if she was drunk. She felt drunk. It all felt like a long, detailed dream, and any minute now she would be in Hawkins with Hopper…

The phone ringing woke her eventually.

"What?" she sleepily said to no one in particular. Rubbing her eyes and fixing her unkempt hair, she got up and first of all checked her clock. 5:28? The kids would be home by now. In fact, they had been home much earlier but decided not to wake her up to avoid confrontation. How long had she slept? She needed it, anyway. Now to pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"Joyce? You need to come over right now. It's urgent." The grave voice of Murray Bauman replied.

"Murray? Why, is everything okay?"

"No, sweetie," He said in a condescending tone that Joyce found deeply irritating. "Everything is not okay. I think that Hopper is still alive."

"Well, I know that." She retorted back. "He sent me a letter. I mean, I think he did."

"What?" It was Murray's turn to be confused.

"We got a letter from him. Wait, lemme get it," She rummaged through her drawers and pulled it out. "Dear Joyce," She read aloud once more. "I hope I sent this to the right address. I remember you telling me where you were going to move to after the summer, even though I wish you could've stayed in Hawkins. I just wanted to let you know that I'm alive, and I really really miss you and El. Is she okay? Whoever she's with, make sure that she has a diet of more than just Eggos. I'm not home though, and I'm not safe, and I really wish I could tell you where I am but I can't. Please don't worry about me though, I will get out of here, and I will come to see you guys. And then maybe, we could have that date? Love, Jim Hopper." She took a deep breath. "See?"

"How do you know that it's from him? And when did it come?"

"I don't. That's the thing. And it came just this morning."

"Then he's probably still alive! Anyway, you need to come. Now! And bring that letter with you."

"But Murray, the kids-"

"You have Jonathan, right? He's 17, he can take care of them. I only need you for a day or so."

"Oh! And what do you need me for, exactly?" Joyce said sarcastically.

"I'll tell you when you get here. Just hurry up!" He pleaded.

"Murray, if this is some sick prank or something-"

"I promise it's not. You need to come. It's URGENT." He repeated himself.

"Fine. Lemme tell the kids." She slammed the phone down back in its holder in frustration. What was so important that he had to talk to her in person? "Will!" She shouted down the corridor.

"Oh, Mom, you're awake? Uh, what do you need me for?" Will poked his head out of the bedroom doorway.

"Well, first of all: how was school?"

"It was, it was good, really good. It was a nice school."

"No bullies?"

"No bullies."

"Also, I'm gonna be away for a day or two. It's Murray, the stupid ass needs to talk to me for some reason, so tell Jonathan to take care of you. Okay? Thanks. And if you need to talk to me, um, call Murray's phone. Here's the number:" She wrote it down rapidly on a notebook, then tore it out and handed it to Will. "I need to pack now, and I'm so sorry about this, sweetie. And also, I know you didn't go to school, and I understand that but don't lie to me ever again, you hear that? And you have to go to school tomorrow. Or I'll tell Jonathan to walk you there holding your hand." She laughed. Her sense of humor had miraculously made a comeback. Will stood there astonished, a slip of paper in his hand. His mother hadn't talked this rapidly and carefree in a long time. Long gone were the days when she actually brushed her hair and gave a damn about how she looked. But now she seemed almost...pretty.

"O-ok, Mom. Yeah, that's fine. I'll go tell El." He shut the door on her.

Joyce staggered through the empty corridor, feeling light as a feather. She was going to visit someone who maybe, just maybe, actually cared about her, even if he hid it under a mask of sarcasm and loneliness. But she hoped to dear God that Murray wouldn't ask her anything about Hopper. Nothing personal, like what he had said to her on that woebegone day or if she had seen him die. She shut her eyes tight, opened them, and went to her bedroom to pack for the trip.

Hopper couldn't sleep that night. He kept on thinking about what had happened just a few hours ago. Were they actually going to send the letter? And why did they want him to write a letter? Why was he so special? Despite the black powder that had supposedly gotten rid of the drugs in his body, Hopper's brain was still a little fuzzy around the edges, and he couldn't distinctly remember where he was, or how he had come here; yet Joyce's address shone in the spotlight.

The next morning he woke up to the same usual routine: no special treatment as if nothing had happened the day before. He changed, was walked by soldiers to the canteen, had his measly breakfast, and started the day's work: hammering nails down on a train track. It was hard, hard work. If you accidentally hit the pick on your foot instead of the nails, you were not even allowed to have a medical check. Instead, you had to rip your jacket, tie a piece of cloth on the wound tightly, and keep on working. Many people died of infections as well, since there was no first aid for prisoners and their jackets were not clean enough to be used as a bandage. And if you ripped your jacket, you would not get a new one until it was literally in shreds. The Russians were very creative in killing their prisoners; most of the time the poor souls brought it upon themselves, either by fatigue, starvation, hypothermia, dehydration, infection, and so on.

Hopper grabbed his pick and set to work. A short man worked beside him, his breath visible in the cold air. "How did you come here?" He said with a strong accent.

"Me? It's a long story. I'll tell you later, maybe." Hopper shivered. "How did you come here?"

"I was working in Lynx." The man started.

"Lynx? Where was that?"

"In Hawkeens, Indeeana, we had a factory called Lynx."

"Go on." Hopper said, intrigued.

"It wasn't actuallee a reeal factory, it was a, whadoyoucallit, um, an undercover place for us to use da Keey. To open the Gate to dee oder world. I think ya know about it. And I had the job of making neew codes to send. But there were deese kids, 2 big and 2 small, and they figured out the code, infeeltrated our factory, and shut down da Keey. I was to blame. So dey said to me: we will keell you or send you here. And I said: put me here. Dat is my storee."

"Wow. That's, that's really sad, I'm sorry about that." He paused. "Um, I never asked you your name. What is it?"

"Smirnoff Chernyshevsky. Your's?"

"I might not pronounce that correctly," Hopper chuckled. He felt a pang of guilt as he remembered what he had called Alexei a few months ago. "My name's Hopper. Jim Hopper." A passing soldier shouted something at them in Russian.

"What did he say?" Hopper whispered to his new friend.

"He said: 'Shut up and get back to work, you lazy bastards.'"

"How polite."

For the next week, things stayed almost normal. He was never called to go back to the Demogorgon cage (thank God!), but the soldiers and guards seemed weird. And strangely nice. At breakfast, the bread he was given wasn't stale, and he was given a packet of butter to put on top. A sliver of butter, but still butter. When he snagged and ripped his jacket on a nail, he was given a new one. Usually, he would have to use the same one. Hopper wasn't particularly suspicious, but he still was wary of the Russians.

One cold night, something unusual happened. Instead of the one guard that normally came to guard his cell through the night, many came, all with guns and weapons aplenty. General Turgenev stood with them, his red and black uniform standing out as usual. Hopper grew tense. What had he done wrong?

"American? Are you awake?"

"Yessir."

"We need you to do us a favor." The general started. Hopper backed away, knowing he was trapped. "What-what favor?"

"We need you to go back to your native country-"

"Hawkins?!" Hopper exclaimed, interrupting him. "You need me to go back to Hawkins, Indiana? Of course!"

"Let me finish," General Turgenev hissed. "We need you to go back to Hawkins and bring your daughter back here."

"Oh."

"You will be accompanied by many armed soldiers so don't even think about escaping. Bring her back here. She is very important. You don't know why, but she is. We need her to do some work here."

"What work?"

"You'll know soon." The general maliciously smiled. "You will leave tomorrow at dusk, so pack your clothes. Oh wait - you don't have any!" The general and his soldiers burst into laughter at this, but Hopper was undeterred. "I, I don't know where she is anymore."

"Don't try that little trick with me, b****! Alexander here has a very, very sharp knife that he is just aching to try out." Alexander brandished his knife and grinned like a little girl on Christmas morning.

"No, seriously, I don't know! She used to live with me in my cabin but I don't know who she's living with now. She could be with anyone. She thinks I'm dead, anyway." He sniffed.

"And you will be dead soon if you don't tell me where the girl is!"

"Fine. Kill me." He spat in their faces through the bars of his cell. "You won't, will you? You need me, like it or not."

General Turgenev wiped the spit from his eyes. "Ok then. We can't kill you. But we can torture you like hell. Vladimir, get the corkscrew."

"Da." Vladimir said as he walked out of the corridor. Hopper widened his eyes in alarm. What was the corkscrew? He didn't want to imagine what it could be. "Fine." He submitted. "I'll tell you where I think she could be."


	8. Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, again because of my low level of creativity tonight, but I think it's still better than Chapter 6 - Pain. Yeesh, that was a bad chapter.

Joyce stopped her car and got out, holding a small suitcase in one hand. She breathed in Murray's house's authentic smell of vodka and sweat and went to press the buzzer on his door.

"Hi, Murray," She waved to the fuzzy camera in the corner of his driveway, knowing he wouldn't be able to hear him. After a few minutes, the door opened to Murray standing in a grubby vest and shorts, beard as long and bushy as ever. "Joyce, Joyce," He welcomed. "Come in." He watched her hesitate. "I don't bite, Joyce." She walked in the graffitied doorway, biting her lip, knowing she was going to regret this.

"What did you wanna talk about?" Joyce asked.

"First: vodka," Murray said, searching through his cupboards for a bottle of it.

"Murray, it's late, this is no time for vodka-"

"Joyce," He grinned, shot glasses in his hand. "It is always time for vodka." He poured them two shots with the skill of a man who had done it many times before.

"I guess you're right…" Joyce said with mock guilt. They both downed the glasses, Joyce grimacing slightly. "I never liked vodka, Murray," she complained. "I dunno why I let you give it to me. It's too strong. Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?" She sat down on an old, yellow couch and waited patiently.

"Hopper. So-"

"No, I don't want to talk about Hop, Murray, just please-"

"Let me finish," Murray said, exasperated. "I went back to that Russian facility, you know, just to look around, for old times' sake: and I was next to where the Key was, where Jim, um, supposedly passed away, and there was this loose floorboard. It kept on rattling every time I stepped on it, which was weird, so I looked closely, and there was a hinge and a latch on the board. I opened it, and Joyce, you wouldn't believe there was a whole underground network of tunnels!"

"I don't think I am believing it," Joyce said, unimpressed. "Why would the Russians have an underground network of tunnels?"

"I don't know, that's what I'm asking you! Anyway, I lowered myself down into it and I started crawling through and it took me hours, Joyce, but I finally got to the end and they led outside! Straight outside the wretched place: I mean, it was amazing! I was thinking that-"

"Wait. Murray, you did say a trapdoor leading to some tunnels, right?"

"To put it into infantile words, yes."

"Oh shit."

"What?"

"When we arrived at our new house in Maine, the first night over El had this-"

"Excuse me, who is El?"

"Oh, um, the girl with the superpowers. She had a tattoo of the number 11 on her arm from when she was kept in Hawkins Lab so we called her Eleven, or El for short." Joyce explained. "Yeah, and she had this dream about Jim. It was the same idea that you had! And, she said that Hopper went through the tunnels and he came out but then these Russian guards took him away…" She sighed. "I'm starting to think that her dream was true, Murray,"

"Same." Murray agreed.

Tears rolled down Joyce's cheeks. "Do you really think he's still alive?"

"Yes. But how do we save him?"

"I hadn't, I hadn't thought of that yet. And we? No, Murray, I have two- I have three kids to take care of and Jonathan can't babysit them for that long."

"Right. Then I guess it'll just be me." He ran over to his kitchen to pour them two more shots of vodka.

"Murray!" She stood up. "You won't be able to save him by yourself! What, are you just gonna power through all those armed Russian soldiers? You're 43, for goodness sake! Act like it!"

"I know, I know…" He said as he brought the glasses over to Joyce. "Drink."

"I can't now, I need to drive back, and it's late…"

"It's fine, you can stay over. Now, just drink." She raised the glass up to her lips and drank it all in a few seconds. "More." She said.

After three shots, Joyce was well and truly drunk. She slumped down into the couch, her eyes half-open. "Oh, Murray, why'd I let you do this to me…" She slurred. Everything was blurry and her head was spinning. "I need to sleep. Where's the bedroom? Can I just sleep here actually? Thanks." With that, she grabbed a pillow, put it under her head, and fell asleep.

Will walked into his bedroom. El was there, looking intently at a photo. "Uh, Mom's going to see Murray for a day or two. So Jonathan's gonna be taking care of us. Sorry, I sounded like a five-year-old then," He laughed. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine." Eleven replied. She seemed distracted.

"What are you looking at?" Will asked, sitting down beside her on the bed but also keeping his distance.

"Oh, nothing." She turned away the picture.

"Show me." Will persisted, and he turned it back towards himself. The picture was of Sara, Hopper's daughter who had died of cancer at only 7. In this picture, she was smiling, and she still had her blonde hair. She was ironically smiling, and wearing a white dress. "Who's that?"

"Sara. Hopper's daughter. She's gone now." El wiped a tear from her face. "I think that he only adopted me because he wanted Sara back. And he only saved you because he knew what it was like to lose a child."

"Hopper had a daughter? Wow, I never knew that: I never thought that Hopper could have a family. Apart from you, of course."

"Yeah." She sniffed. "He gave me this picture a long time ago, and he told me to never lose it. I don't know what I would did." She opened her bedside drawers and carefully placed it back inside. "Will?"

"Yes?"

"Sometimes I think that Hopper thinks that I'm Sara."

"Jonathan?" A voice said from the doorway. "Mom's gone to Murray's, by the way."

"Cool," Jonathan said to his younger brother. "How long will she be away for?"

"A day, I guess…Why?"

"No reason."

"Ok. Bye." Will left the room.

Jonathan had never had such an awkward conversation with his own brother before. They were growing more and more distant by the minute. Will used to be his only friend. What had happened to their relationship now?

He knew the answer already. It was Nancy. Nancy had raised his high-school popularity level from "extreme loser" to "loser who's dating a popular girl". Nancy had come between Will and himself. He didn't want to admit it but he knew it was true.


	9. Dread

"Eleven!"

"What?" Mrs. Wheeler asked, confused.

"I told you, the Mind Flayer hurt her leg and some of it got inside her. I, I thought she had gotten all of it out. I guess not."

"Sweetie, I have no idea what-"

"So if it some of it is still inside her," Nancy carried on, interrupting her mother. "That means that it could be living off her powers! The Gate's closed, so there's no other way it could be alive. And that explains how she lost them." Her face dropped. "Mike." She ran down the stairs, her mother calling after her.

"Nancy! Where are you going?" Mrs. Wheeler went after her.

"Mike! Mike!" Nancy shouted, blasting the door open and turning on the lights.

"Nancy…" Mike groaned. He squinted at his alarm clock. "It's past midnight, what are you doing? Lemme sleep…." He put his pillow on his face to block out the light and tried to slip back into the intoxicating dream he had almost every night about his girlfriend…

She was back in Hawkins. She would live with him, but not in his basement. They would stay together forever. No one would stop them from kissing or anything and he wouldn't have to keep the door open three inches all the time. When he was old enough, he would propose to her, and she would accept happily, tears of joy springing from her eyes. They would have kids, pretty kids, with her beautiful eyes and radiant smile. And as he would face his last days on the Earth, she would hold his frail hand and the last face he would ever see was hers...

"Mike, no, you have to wake up." Nancy shook his bed aggressively, bringing Mike back to the real world. "It's El."

He was disappointed to have been wakened from his fantasy yet he sat up, hearing her name forming on his sister's lips. "El? What's wrong with her? Is she okay? Nancy-"

"I can't explain right now, but you need to call her." She held her younger brother's cold, white hands, something she had not done in a long time. "She's in danger, that's all I can tell you right now, and you need to check if she's okay. Please."

Reluctantly, Mike got out of his bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and dialed Eleven's number into the wall telephone. He waited impatiently as it rang on the other side, tapping his foot on the floor. She didn't pick up. Mike felt rejected, even though he knew she wouldn't be awake at this time. "She didn't come." He said. "She's probably sleeping, as normal people do at this time of night!" He glared at Nancy. "Can you tell me what danger she's in now?"

"It's a long story but I'll tell you, anyway, seeing as you're awake. Do you remember Barb?"

"Barbara Holland? The other girl who was taken by the Demogorgon? Yeah, I remember her. She was your best friend, wasn't she?"

"Yes, Mike, she was, but maybe next time you could be MORE tactless. Some people," She muttered under her breath. "Anyway, her parents brought her back just a few hours ago-"

"You're joking, right? She's dead, Nancy, you need to realize that."

"Don't interrupt me again. I thought the same, you know, how she was alive and stuff, so I asked her stuff about me and she knew all of it! So then I thought, well maybe this is the real Barb. I was so stupid. It wasn't her, it was a clone of her sent by the Mind Flayer. Yes, yes, I know I sound ridiculous but I'm telling the truth. She started asking me where El was so I punched her in the face and then I threw her out the window."

"That's pretty badass for you, Nancy," Mike remarked, surprisingly cool and collected.

"Is that a compliment? Well, I'll take it as one. And when she died, she melted into the same stuff the Mind Flayer was made out of! So, I shot it, and I think it's dead now. I hope."

"But how is the Mind Flayer alive?"

"I have an answer to that, I think! You know how El lost her powers? Well, there could still be some of the Mind Flayer in her leg, and it could be using her powers up. That's why she doesn't have them anymore! And until we get it out of her, her powers will be gone. And Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"If we don't get it out of her in time, I think it'll kill her."

Hopper exhaled loudly, his eyes closed in silent agony. He knew what he was about to do was traitorous, yet he had to. El couldn't live without him. Or could she? She was, after all, living without him now, wasn't she? Maybe she was doing just fine, and he was about to ruin her life with one sentence…

"She could be in Maine," The words left a bad taste in his dry mouth and he regretted them immediately.

"Maine?"

"It's another state in America, it's about a, uh, a 17-hour drive from Hawkins to there. Joyce said that she would move there after all this happened. I can imagine that Mike's mother wouldn't take her in, so it would probably be Joyce and Will. She'll be with them. If she's not, then I have no idea." He collapsed onto his uncomfortable bed. "That's all I know."

"If you're lying to us, b****, you will pay. Remember that. And get ready. You're going for a few weeks."

Hopper stared up at the grey, dirty ceiling. He tried to sleep, yet it was pointless; his eyes remained wide open. The bed creaked as he turned over to his side. What were they going to do with her, he thought. Did they need to try and open the Gate again? And why? Opening the Gate would just make more trouble for them...

Now how was he going to escape?

He couldn't take any guns since they would check him. Could he take six armed, muscular guards out with just his bare fists? Probably not. If he took them to the wrong place he could maybe do something. After all, they didn't know where Maine was. They just believed that he was telling the truth. He was, in a way, their only hope.

The next morning, Hopper woke up early, his breath forming a cloud as it left his dry lips. He dreaded what was going to happen at dusk; yet tried to carry on as normal. No sliver of butter on his bread this morning. In fact, the soldiers seemed to be as full of malice towards him as they had been nice. When he walked past a guard on his way outside, he stuck out his foot and tripped him, his face making direct contact with the floor. The guard and his friends chuckled and he pulled him back up by the back of his shirt. It was fine, Hopper had gotten past bullying decades ago. Yet his head was throbbing horribly, and the ever-bleeding cut on his lip stung in the bitter cold as he worked. He searched for his friend Smirnoff, but alas: he wasn't there, and the man next to him was tall, heavily tattooed and only spoke in grunts.

That day, he hammered so much that even after work, he could still hear the excruciating clang the pick made each time it hit a nail ringing in his ears. He could still hear it now as he devoured the disgusting stew next to his fellow inmates. It was kinda funny, he thought, he and many other people were in prison when they hadn't even done anything wrong. Well, apart from stealing a man's car. And killing a thug. But that had been done for his country, for justice.

However ravenous he was, the fifth time he brought the metal spoon to his mouth, he gagged and ran to the bathroom. Whatever had been in his stomach was now being flushed away, and he remained as hungry as he had been in the morning. It was not the stew that had induced his vomit, however bad it was, it was the fact that he was a f****** traitor and he had saved himself instead of saving his own daughter. He would never get over that, but, unfortunately, there was no going back now.


	10. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, by the way, all of the chapters and sections of the story happen at different times, so that's why one section might happen at night, while another one could happen in the daytime.

"It's too hot."

"Really? It's, it's only 50 degrees, how can you be warm? I'm cold." Will asked.

"I just am." She replied, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. "Can you turn the heating off?"

"You-you're sweating. Are you ok? Do you have a fever or anything?"

"No, I'm not sick. Please, just turn it off."

"Ok, then," He walked over to the thermostat and turned the house's heating off. "Better now?"

"Yeah, thanks." Eleven stayed quiet for a few minutes after that, hating when her awkwardness reared its ugly head.

"Mike rang last night." Will broke the silence. "I checked the telephone and he called us. It was really late, as well. I think it was for you."

"Mike Wheeler?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Oh, I've been calling him for the past week! He didn't pick up, though. Can you call him back? I don't know how to use the phone."

"Sure," Will replied.

"Pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up," El mumbled impatiently. "PICK UP!"

"Who is this?" A scratchy voice replied.

"Mike? Is that you?"

"No, it's Karen Wheeler, his mother. Who is this?" She repeated herself.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Wheeler, it's El, Mike's girlfriend. Can I speak to him, please?"

"Of course, sweetie, why didn't you say so? Also, I'm so sorry about your father, please, accept my condolences."

"Thank you," El said, wondering what "condolences" were and how Mrs. Wheeler was going to give them to her. "Is Mike here, then?"

"Oh, yes, sorry, I'll go get him."

Eleven waited in anticipation, her foot tapping on the floor.

"E-El?" Mike stuttered. The word felt sweet on his tongue and he savored it gently.

"Mike! I can't believe you actually picked up! Why'd you call last night?"

Mike contemplated his decisions. She seemed so happy to hear from him he didn't want to make her sad. Yet Nancy really thought she was in danger…

"No reason, I just wanted to call my girlfriend because I love her!"

"Aww, Mike! How is school?"

"It's good, it's good...it'd be better with you, though. And guess what? Troy's moved away to Ohio!"

"Troy? Who's Troy?"

Mike bit his lip. It had only been three years. Why had she forgotten him so quickly? "You know, Troy, that bully who used to go to Hawkins Middle? He was a mouth-breather, remember?"

"Ohhh, Troy! That's so amazing, I'm glad he's gone." Mike didn't reply. "Hello?" El asked.

"I'm here, it's just...you know what, I did call you for a reason."

"What?"

He explained to her in full detail what had Nancy explained to him. "And then Barb- Nancy! I'm on the phone!" Nancy opened the door, a ray of light shining inside.

"Is that El?" She whispered.

"Yes!" Mike mouthed back. "Be quiet!" He carried on talking to Eleven, while she listened intently.

"And that's the whole thing. I'm sorry I lied to you, I know I said I wouldn't anymore but you just sounded so happy I didn't want to break your heart."

"It's ok," El said quietly. "So, the Mind Flayer: it's in me now?"

"Yes, that's the theory we're going with."

"And it's living off my powers?"

"Mhm."

"Shit. Well, I have to go now. Bye."

"No, El, wait-" And without another word, El hung up the phone. She lay out on her bed and cried. Hard. She hated Mike for it, even though she knew it wasn't his fault: he was just telling her the truth.

Maybe, just maybe, if she hadn't run away from Hawkins Lab three years ago, she would be living a simple life with her Papa and the other scientists...But then she would never have met Mike, or Will, or Hopper. She smiled through her tears as she thought of him. Dead or not, Hopper had definitely changed Eleven for the better. Even if he had let her eat triple-decker Eggo extravaganzas.

Joyce opened her eyes. Her head was throbbing and nausea filled her throat. Dazed and confused, she sat up. The room started spinning instantly, and she flopped back down onto the old sofa she had been sleeping on. Where was she? This wasn't her house in Hawkins, or her new house in Maine. This was…..different. It smelt like vodka and there was graffiti all over the dirty walls. A balding man in a vest stood in front of her, grinning. "Murray?" she asked, squinting her eyes at the bright light.

"Yes, Joyce, it is me. Enjoying your hangover?"

"Hangover? What hangover? And why am I sleeping in your house?"

"Oh, child...do you not remember anything from last night?"

"What-what happened last night? And tell me, why am I in your house?"

"Look. I told you that you had to come over. So you came. And then you got drunk. And you slept on this couch. Simple."

"Ok, ok...ahhh, Murray, my head hurts."

"Well, that is one of the symptoms of a hangover so I would get used to it if I were you."

Her hair messy and tangled, Joyce stumbled down the stairs. She had vomited a few hours after waking up which she had to admit had made her feel better. She had changed into new clothes and looked positively better. "What did you want to talk about, Murray?" She made herself a cup of coffee and sat in an old, red armchair.

"Well, you must remember last night now, I wanted to talk about Jim Hopper, your boyfriend? Remember?"

Joyce almost spat out her coffee in shock. "Boyfriend?! Are you crazy? We, we never even went out- it wasn't official- he doesn't like me...um, tell me what you wanted to say about him?"

Murray smirked and looked down awkwardly. "I was thinking that I could book a flight to Russia and save him? You know-"

"Oh, don't be stupid, Murray! Imagine how many guards and soldiers there would be there! Unless...you think you could take them out by yourself." She laughed while he stood there, looking almost hurt. Almost.

"Well, I wasn't gonna do it by myself. I was thinking that you would come, maybe?"

Joyce contemplated, biting her lip. "No. No, I can't do it. I have three kids to take care of, and Jonathan can't be a mother for that long. And I won't bring them with me either. Besides, even if I did go, we wouldn't be a match for those Russians. We would need a whole army for that."

"Well, Joyce," Murray started. "What if we did have an army?"

"How, Murray? Tell me, how?" She leaned forward, putting her mug down.

"If we could bring the US army to Russia, I'm sure we could defeat them."

"Great idea, but how do you plan on bringing the f****** army to Russia?"

"Owens knows, right?"

"Owens?"

"Dr. Owens. The man who was helping Will last year. He knows about the Gate and the Mind Flayer. And he can contact the army. If we convince him, we just might be able to do it."

"Ok then," Joyce said, standing up. "What's your plan?"


	11. Hopper's alive!

The phone rang once more and Eleven contemplated if she should pick it up. She knew who it was; and she knew she should've been happy to answer it, yet at this moment in time, she didn't feel like talking to anyone. Not even Mike.

Reluctantly, she sat up, grabbed a photo of her and Mike at the Snow Ball from under her bed, and placed it in front of her. She started to tie her green scarf around her eyes, the phone still ringing. She didn't want to speak to him, but it would be fun to "spy" again. Tightening the scarf, she slipped into her Void.

El's eyes opened and the darkness struck her. She had realized that however many times she came here, the vast emptiness and desolation of the place would never fail to surprise her. A few years ago, she had lived in a place similar to the Void, and she had called it home, with its white tiled walls and saltwater tanks. Now, she couldn't imagine sleeping in that blank cell they called a bedroom or loving her "Papa". He was a vile, cruel man, a man who knew how to call his inhumanity "love and overprotectiveness" and make her believe it. It was all shit.

As she walked through the clear, shallow water, her footsteps echoed, resounding against her body. Mike appeared slowly, absentmindedly zipping up his red hoodie then unzipping it again. He was standing next to the telephone in his bedroom, hurt and confused. El felt an immediate pang of guilt and longed to reach out and touch him, but she knew she couldn't. Interacting with Mike had ruined the experience last time, and she didn't want to do it again. Once more, he dialled her house's number again, and she smiled at his stubbornness from afar.

Oh well, taking just a few more steps toward him won't hurt.

Giving in to her conscience, she walked forward, still trying to maintain her distance. But as she walked, his body glitched, in a way, and after a few seconds he dematerialized into nothingness. El groaned loudly. She hadn't even touched him. But now, standing in Mike's place, was a tired, dirty, and bald Jim Hopper.

Eleven let out an involuntary whoop of joy. Could it be that after all these months her beloved father was actually alive? Forgetting what had happened with Mike completely, she ran to him and hugged him tightly. He smelt different, different from his usual smell of cigarettes and alcohol. He smelt stale and heavily exhausted. The first thing she wondered was: what had happened to his hair? Hopper normally took pride over his police-chief mustache and he had told her that he would rather be dead than be seen bald. She hugged him all the same, tears of joy streaming down her face, and much to her surprise, he didn't fade into smoke, as Mike had done in the forest. Instead, he hugged her back, solid and real.

She unfurled herself from his arms. "Hop? How did you- Where did- Please can you-"

Hopper put his finger on her lips. "I'm coming, El, just, hold on, I'll be home soon. You need to stay home, don't follow me. It's dangerous here, it's terrible here." He said. "I love you so much, sweetie, but I have to go now."

"No! I want to stay with you, I've found you now, don't leave me!" She sobbed.

"I'm so sorry, El, I wish I could come-"

"No!" She repeated, grabbing his hand. And then everything went black.

When she opened her eyes, she recognized the place instantly.

She was in the Upside Down.

She wasn't home either, no, this was different. It was a desolate prison, much like the one Dr. Brenner had kept her in. The walls were grey and dirty and plastered in thick, slippery vines. Everything was bathed in an eerie blue light. Particles of who-knows-what drifted around, making her cough badly. "Hop?" She wailed. "Hopper? Where'd you go? Where am I? Hop? Hop!" She walked around in search of hope, blood dripping from her nose. A shadowy figure appeared in front of her.

"Hopper!" She ran towards the figure, yet the telltale shape of its face was all too obvious.

It was the Demogorgon.

She screamed and backed away, but a vine on the ground tripped her up. The back of her head hit the stone floor and there she lay, with the Demogorgon just a few centimetres away from her. It leaned over her, mouth open, claws ready. El breathed quickly, her fists clenched. So this is how you're gonna die, she thought. With no powers, no family, and no friends.

Then all of a sudden, she heard footsteps. But they were of no use now.

"Hopper!" She shouted, tilting her head backwards. "Stay away! It's here, the Demogorgon!" Even if she was going to die, she didn't want Hopper to too. He had made sacrifices for her many times, and it was time for her to make one for him.

"Use your powers!" He shouted from afar.

"But I don't have any-"

"Just try it!"

But when she turned around, the Demogorgon was so close to her she could see into its dreadful mouth, and she screamed once again. One of its claws touched her face - and then, just like magic, she was back home again.

"Will!" She shouted, untying the scarf that was still wound around her eyes. "Will!" And when her eyes adjusted to the bright light, she saw that he was there waiting for him.

"Oh, Will," She sobbed.

"What? What's wrong? Who did you visit?"

"It's Hopper, Will, he's alive, but he isn't safe, the Demogorgon, it's there, it's waiting for him."

"I-I can't understand what you're saying, speak up. You can tell me, I'm here." He squeezed her hand reassuringly, forgetting the rule.

"Ow!" She grabbed her leg as the pain seared through it once more, then glared at him coldly. "It's not like you would understand anyway." She stood up without giving him another glance and walked away.

"My plan," Murray said. "Well, I don't have a proper one yet but I have the forms of one. If you go tell Dr. Owens-"

"Murray," Joyce interrupted, biting her lip. "Murray, I have something to tell you."

"What?"

"I just remembered something about Dr. Owens." She paused. "He's dead. He died from a heart attack. Y'know, he never really was the same after that Demodog attacked him. I-I can't say I miss him, but he did help Will."

"Oh. Well, Rest In Peace, Dr. Owens, but now I don't have a plan. Tell me, who is the new scientist at Hawkins Lab?"

"There is no scientist at Hawkins Lab. It shut down, remember?"

Murray put his head in his hands. "Ok then, I definitely have no plan."

"I think we don't need a plan."

"What?" Murray said again.

"I think he's coming soon, and he doesn't need us to save him," Joyce remarked. She got up and grabbed the handle of her small suitcase. "I'm going now, Murray, Jonathan will be getting tired now,"

"Don't be stupid, Joyce, the Russians aren't gonna send him back here!"

"Eh, maybe they will. Now, I have to go, can you open the door? My hands are full."

He sighed and went to open the door for her. "Go, then, if you're so eager,"

"Thank you!" She left his house, and a sudden feeling of relievement washed over her. You never know what that man is going to do next, she thought. "Bye."

"Goodbye." He closed the door and she got into her dusty car. The kids would be waiting for her and knowing Jonathan, the only food they would have had would be jam or cheese sandwiches. She laughed quietly as she started the car.

"Kids?" Joyce said, opening the door. "Hello?" The house was surprisingly quiet. "Will? Jonathan? El?"

"Hi, Joyce," Eleven muttered from the kitchen.

"Hi, sweetie, how was school?" Joyce came over to hug Eleven. El felt cold to the touch, even though the house was warm.

"Oh, we, uh, we didn't go today. It was-"

"El! I'll let you off on your first day, but you need to start going to school at some point! The teachers there will think I'm a bad mom...Am I a bad mom? I left you all alone with a teenager…" She was talking to herself now, ignoring Eleven.

"Yeah, we'll go tomorrow. I promise. Friends don't lie, remember?"

"Yeah, friends don't lie," She repeated. "Oh, uh, do you know where Will and Jonathan are?"

"They're in their rooms," El looked down at her red sneakers; they were easier to look into than Joyce's eyes. Friends don't lie.

"El, is there something you need to tell me?" Joyce lifted Eleven's head. "You seem...different today."

"It's Hop, Joyce," She snivelled. "I saw him in the Void - and he talked to me, he was real and alive...but now he's in the Upside Down and it's all my fault!" She sank down on her knees, weeping into her hands. Joyce bent down too.

"You saw Jim Hopper? In the Void?" She scoffed. "If this is some type of joke, it's not-"

"It's not a joke! He talked to me, and then he was gone. He saw me in the Void. I-I still don't get how he did that." She looked up fearfully. "Hopper doesn't have powers, does he?"

"No. No," Joyce breathed. "Hopper doesn't have powers."

"Oh."

"What did Hop say to you in the Void?"

"He said something about how it was dangerous where he was, and that I shouldn't follow him, but I did and when I woke up I was in the Upside Down. And the Demogorgon, it almost got me."

"Hopper's alive? Oh my gosh, that's amazing!" Tears streamed down her face, happy ones. "But tell me, what happened in the Upside Down?"

"I was in this prison place; I think that's where Hopper is but I didn't recognize it at all. The Demogorgon was about to kill me, and it looked so happy to kill me as well - I know it has no face, but I could tell. But when it touched me, I was back in my bedroom again."

"Are you sure it wasn't a dream?" Joyce asked, her small glimmer of hope fading.

"No, it felt so real - and I remember it all clearly. It can't have been a dream."

"Hmm. Okay, have you told Will and Jonathan? They'll be so happy! Will, especially."

"No, I haven't. And I don't want to, anyway. You do it."

"Okay…" Joyce frowned at Eleven's sudden change of mood. "I'll tell them. You need to go to school tomorrow, by the way - if you don't I actually will walk you there. I'm serious."

"I promise. Will says that it would be bad if you walked us there, but I don't get why."

Joyce stifled a laugh. El had obviously never experienced a parent embarrassing them before. "No, I don't get why it's bad either, to be honest."


	12. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER ALERT: There is something that happens in this chapter that might annoy some of my readers, and I’m sorry if it does, but it’s just something that I thought will probably happen in Season 4.

Mike slammed the phone back in its holder and swore loudly. Eleven was definitely mad at him, hanging up like that and then not picking up his calls after. What could he do now?

Nancy’s words echoed in his head. If we don’t get it out of her in time, I think it’ll kill her...He panicked as the words washed over his body. She was going to die soon if he didn’t save her. And if she wasn’t answering the phone, there was only one thing he could do.

“Nancy,” He said, putting his waterproof jacket on. “Where’s Mom?”  
“She’s gone to sleep over at her friend’s, she won’t be back for a week. Why?”  
“Good. We need to go now. Can you drive?”  
“Yeah, but where are we going?”   
“To Will’s.”  
“Mike, are you joking! That’s a 17-hour drive, and I just got my license a few weeks ago!”  
“It’s El, she’s in danger like you said. Please, Nancy, I need to check if she’s okay.”  
“I’ll go with you, but I can’t drive for that long.”  
“Do you know anyone who can?” He looked up at her with imploring eyes.  
“Um, there’s Steve, but-”  
“Yes, Steve! He’s had his license for years! Call him!”  
“Mike,” Nancy groaned. “It’s gonna be so awkward, I-I haven’t really talked to-”  
“Nancy. This is a matter of life and death. I don’t care if you cheated on him.”  
“Ok, Mike, I did not cheat on him, I…..yeah, I did kinda cheat on him and that’s why I can’t sit next to him in a car for 17 damn hours!”  
“Fine then, I guess you will just carry the guilt of killing my girlfriend forever…” He said casually, fingering a lock of his curly brown hair. Nancy was shocked at how persuasive he had become in the past few years. To her, he was still a nerdy middle schooler who had played a board game in his basement for hours.  
“Uhhh…”  
Mike cocked his head mockingly, waiting for a response. She finally submitted and threw her car keys at him playfully. “Go start the car. We’re going to Steve’s.”

“Do you like him? Y’know, now that Jonathan is away?” Mike asked, the wind blowing his hair in his face. He was sitting next to Nancy in the passenger seat as she drove, and she scoffed loudly at his blunt suggestion. “No, Mike, how much of a bad girlfriend do you think I am? I may have made a mistake once, but I’m not gonna do it again. And besides, I love Jonathan. Steve: well, he just wasn’t the right person for me.”  
“Really? ‘Cause it looks like he still thinks that you’re the right person for him.” He poked her annoyingly, and she blushed.  
“No, he doesn’t, Mike. And stop it, I’m driving, for goodness sake!” The car swerved dangerously as her hand slipped the steering wheel. Mike leaned back on the car seat, overwhelmed. “Ok.” He breathed. “I won’t do it again,”  
“I told you I was new!”  
“Sorry. But seriously, I think he does still like you.”  
“Well, I don’t like him.” She stated uncomfortably. “Now, shut up. Next time, I actually will crash and I’ll make sure you get hurt.” They stayed quiet for the rest of the journey.

Nancy hesitated knocking on Steve’s door. How would he react? What if he just turned her away at the doorstep? He had been through all of the shit that had happened in the summer with her, but she couldn’t recall the last time they had a real conversation.  
“Nancy,” Mike started in a mocking tone. “Do you need me to knock the door for you? Or can you handle it-”  
“Shut up, Mike! I didn’t laugh at you when El dumped your ass, did I? Do you remember that?” She imitated his tone. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it. 

Nancy rapped the door, one, two, three times. It opened a few seconds later to Steve Harrington, wearing a red polo shirt. He smiled awkwardly when he saw Nancy. “Oh, hi, Nancy, what brings you here?” He said, not even acknowledging Mike’s presence. “Do you wanna come inside or anything?”  
“Thanks, Steve, but we haven’t come for small talk. It’s about El.”  
“What about El?”  
“We might wanna talk about it outside, Steve.”   
“Oh, ok.” He stepped outside. “Tell me,” he whispered. He was weirdly close to Nancy’s face and she backed away. She explained what had happened, with the clone of Barb and El’s leg. He didn’t believe her, and she didn’t blame him. Who would have?  
“Are you joking, Nancy, ‘cause I have to get back and wash the dishes soon…”  
“No, no, I promise I’m not joking, and you need to drive us to Maine to Eleven’s house.”  
“Nancy, I can’t drive to Maine-”  
“She’ll die, Steve, it’s just like what happened with Will, we think.”  
“You think?” He asked incredulously. “What if that’s just what you think and she’s actually completely fine?”  
“And what if she’s not?” She stared him in the eyes, daring him to speak.  
“I-” Steve stuttered. Mike had been in the corner the whole time, but he came to talk now.  
“That’s my girlfriend, Steve, I care about her. I know you once cared about Nancy, or maybe you still do, I don’t know!”  
“Mike!” Nancy blushed again. He carried on, undeterred.  
“She’s not safe, the Mind Flayer, it wants to get her and only her. If you can’t do this for me or Nancy, do it for her. She’s saved your life many times. Don’t you think you should pay her back?”   
Nancy cleared her throat. “Well, that was a very nice speech, but I don’t think it changed Steve’s mind. Thanks, anyway.” She started to walk back to her car.  
“Wait,” Steve said. “I’ll come with you. Just, let me tell my mom first. I’ll say I’m going to a concert or something.” He went back inside.  
Mike smiled gleefully. “Told you so.”

“This is a nice car,” Steve remarked. “Who’s is it?”  
“My mom’s,” Nancy replied, looking out the car window. “I don’t have my own yet.”  
“Well, you can always borrow mine if you need to,”  
“Thanks.” Nancy carried on looking out of the window, and Steve couldn’t fathom what was so interesting about the blurry fields outside.

Normally, Mike would have been ravenous at this stage of the journey, but he was too worried about Eleven to remember silly things like food. What if she had somehow become Flayed, and he was too late to save her? It troubled him tremendously, yet he didn’t speak. However, Steve, being Steve, was almost always hungry. “Let’s stop when we get to a McDonald’s or something. I’m starving.”  
“Me too.” Nancy agreed quietly. “How about you, Mike?” She turned in her seat to face him.  
“I’m good, actually. Can we get a takeaway and eat it in the car?”  
“Yeah, sure. Look, there’s one over there.” Nancy pointed through the windshield. It was a dirty, wind-beaten restaurant, but a restaurant all the same. Steve veered the car expertly into a parking spot and turned it off. “One thing before we go,”   
“What?” Nancy said, fixing her makeup. And before she could stop him, Steve leaned over and kissed her on the lips.   
Nancy pushed him away instantly, but then leant in to kiss him again. The kiss was long this time, and they savoured it. Mike’s jaw dropped. He had known that Steve liked Nancy and vice versa, but he hadn’t expected him to make a move that quick. So he had been waiting for her all these years…

“Oh, Steve,” Nancy groaned in frustration once she had pulled away. “But what about Jonatha-” Steve put a finger on her lips, shushing her. “It’s okay. Jonathan doesn’t know.” He opened the car door and went out to get their food.  
“Wow, Nancy-” Mike started but Nancy pulled him forward by the neck of his shirt.  
“If you dare breathe a word about this to anyone - especially Jonathan,” She threatened. “I’ll kill you, I swear I will.” She let go of him and burst into tears. “Mike,” She sobbed. “Oh, I’m such a bad girlfriend! I cheated on Steve, and now I cheated on Jonathan, and he’s gonna hate me!”  
“Yeah. He probably will. That is, if he finds out. And I think you can make sure that that won’t happen.”  
“But we’re going to see him now and he’s gonna act like he’s still my boyfriend.” She cried.  
“Because he is. Remember?”  
“Yeah. Yeah,” She sniffed. “I’ll just pretend like nothing happened.”  
“Good girl. But really though, did you kiss him because you’re in love with him or because Jonathan’s away and you’re bored?”  
“I, I don’t know, Mike,” And the tears ran down her cheeks once more.

Hopper cried. It was something he hadn’t done in a long time. In fact, the last time he had cried was when Sara died, and this felt the same. His daughter, who he had just adopted a few months ago, was going to be used and experimented on by these jerks. This was all his fault. If he had been a man, and not a coward, El would be safe at home, wherever she was. Hopefully with Joyce. 

He remembered the date she had planned with him back in Hawkins. What an idiot he was for believing it was all possible. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, if he hadn’t been so set on finding Will, he would have been living peacefully as the Chief Police Officer of Hawkins. Alone, but peaceful. That night Hopper slept sitting against the wall, the weight of his guilt leaving him too exhausted to climb onto his uncomfortable bed. He dreamed of Sara as he snored, and it felt all too real...

She hadn’t lost her beautiful silky hair yet, and it was wound tightly in two cute pigtails behind her head. They were at the park, with his ex-wife, and they all looked so happy. His wife smiled purely as she lifted Sara up in her arms. She deposited her on the green climbing frame and Hopper’s face fell as he remembered. Sara had been so eager to be one of the big kids and be able to climb the frame herself, that she always asked her mother to help her. Now, alas, she would never be one of the big kids.

Hopper’s ex-wife, Mary, helped Sara get to the top of the climbing frame and then put her back down on the floor. “Again, again, Mommy!” She screamed in delight, raising her tiny fists. But before she could get back on again, her eyes widened alarmingly and her breathing reduced to short, sharp gasps. She had to sit down, and Mary got a bottle of water out of her handbag and let her daughter sip from it slowly. Mary seemed surprisingly calm and collected, as if she had dealt with her many times before. Slowly, Sara began to regain a slower breathing schedule, and Hopper watched in pain as she got up again, asking to go on the swings.

Hopper’s parents had been very religious and forced Christianity on him and his siblings at a very young age. He had reluctantly succumbed to it until Sara was diagnosed with cancer. After that, Hopper had simply wondered: if God is all-loving, how did he kill my innocent daughter at such a young age? He left all religion then, and didn’t care if his parents hated him for it. They were both dead now, anyway. 

He woke up suddenly, his shirt drenched with sweat and his heart beating loudly. His head hurt from the cold stone floor, and he weakly got up and climbed onto his bed, immediately falling asleep.

This time, he dreamed of his alive daughter, Eleven, and the beautiful life himself and she would have lived together if he had been lucky enough to not be captured by the Russian army three months ago.


	13. BYLER BYLER BYLER BYLER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short little chapter about my favourite ship in the fandom: Byler!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Byler with all my heart but if you don't I respect that. :)

“Will?” Eleven called from across the room. She and Will were finally tidying their beds after a week of avoiding it.  
“Yeah?” His back was turned to her as he tried to put the sheets over one corner of the mattress, failing each time.  
“Mike and Nancy are coming. They called an hour ago.”  
“Oh. That’s nice.” Will was grateful for the fact that his back was turned, otherwise El would have seen his cheeks turn red.  
“Also, Will, I’m sorry, for being so rude to you earlier, I was just-”  
“It’s okay, El,” He turned around. “It’s okay.”

A knock at the door and Will was, once again, blushing. He opened the door and smiled awkwardly at Mike’s concerned face. “Hi, Mike. And Nancy.”  
“Hi, Will, do you know where El is? Is she okay?” Mike looked over Will’s head in search of her. Will was secretly disappointed at the lack of excitement Mike had shown to see him, but invited him inside nonetheless. “Yeah, she’s okay, why?”  
“Really? Are you sure? Can I see her?” Mike replied, not answering his question.  
“Ok, sure…” He led him and Nancy to their room, where Eleven was setting her duvet.  
“Mike!” She exclaimed, hugging him instantly. Will’s stomach flipped and he looked down at his feet, breathing quietly. Nancy had gone to see Jonathan and he was standing alone in the middle of the room, feeling unnecessary, even if it was his house.  
“El! I missed you so much! A-are you okay? Does anything hurt?”  
“No, I’m fine, Mike, but thanks.” She kissed him on the cheek and Will winced. It was a small peck, but a kiss all the same. “Well, this is mine and Will’s room.”  
“It’s awesome, El.” He looked around.  
“Mike?” A voice spoke from behind them. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it…  
“Mhm?” Mike replied.  
“Can, can I speak to you for a bit?”  
“Yeah, sure, tell me.”  
“In private, please?” Will bit his lip in anguish. You’re being an idiot…  
“Uh, ok.” Mike said, wondering what was so secret.  
“El, can you leave, please? Trust me, it’s nothing to do with you, it’s just-” Fuck, you did it.  
“Sure.” She left the room, a grin still on her face.  
“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Mike spoke, his hands in his pockets. Will beckoned for him to sit down on his bed and exhaled loudly. “Do you remember when you said that I didn’t like girls?” You’re gonna fuck this up, aren’t you?  
“Oh, if it’s about that, I’m really sorry, I was being selfish-”  
“No, no, Mike, it’s okay. You were right, actually. I don’t like girls.”  
“What?” Will closed his eyes slowly, then opened them again.  
“I’m gay, Mike.” He’s gonna hate you, I bet.  
Mike’s mouth formed a perfect “o”, frozen in shock.  
“I’m gay,” Will repeated. “Is that okay???”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Mike was still frozen. Well, I’d rather him hate you then just be frozen.  
“That’s fine, Will. But why didn’t you tell me before?”  
“Well, that was the part I was avoiding,” Will looked down again, cheeks burning. “Why do you think I talked to everyone in the party comfortably except you? Why-why do you think I was so terrified of you?”  
“I don’t know,” Mike replied, dumbfounded. Heart pounding, Will carried on.  
“Mike…” He looked him in the eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes…  
Realization washed over Mike like ice-cold water. “You-”  
“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Will interrupted, not wanting him to say those three words. “But I knew it would never happen, ‘cause El, and you’re not gay, I think.”  
“I’m so sorry...y’know I’ve never kissed a boy before.” Mike suggested breathlessly.  
“What?” Will looked up in surprise.  
“It would be fun to try it out, maybe…” And then his lips met Will’s. The kiss was painful, bruising, yet it was excellent. A thousand words needed to be said at once, but the silence seemed enough. Mike wondered why he was enjoying it, why hadn’t he pulled away immediately, why his lips were savouring it. But what about El, he thought in pain.

It lasted thirteen seconds, Will had counted.  
“I liked that,” Mike admitted, his eyes staring at their hands. They were touching.  
“Me too. Wanna do it again?”  
Mike grinned wryly. “Sure.”


End file.
